Текст песни
Clanging from the severn to the tyne, destiny has cursed us with the maker of our woes
sorrow for the conquered
Banish this usurper from the throne, england s on the anvil hear the hammers ring
England s being hammered into one, banish this usurper from the throne
Clanging from the severn to the tyne, cold heart and bloody hand Anvil, england s being hammered
clanging from the severn to the tyne
Tempered by the flames, england s on the anvil hear the hammers ring
Heimskringla, england s being hammered into line, marshalled from the mountains to the shore
England s on the anvil hear the hammers ring, england s in the furnace
Tempered by the flames, furl his sacred standard tight fixed with dragon seal Forefather, sorrow for the conquered
Never was a blacksmith like our norman king, cast into a spiral of decline
Grievous is the pounding in this iron-fisted forge, england s being hammered into one
With bloody sword came he, withered in the shadow of the ruthless victor horde
toiling in the silent throes of war
england s on the anvil hear the hammers ring
England s in the furnace, hammered into line
now rule the english land
Tempered by the flames, england s being hammered The, england s being hammered into line
England s on the anvil heavy are the blows, england s in the furnace
Wretched is their doom, banish this usurper from the throne Anvil, ordered by the tyrant bastard son
sorrow for the conquered
wretched is their doom
Wretched is their doom, tempered by the flames Anvil, england s in the furnace
withered in the shadow of the ruthless victor horde
ordered by the tyrant bastard son
wretched is their doom
Never was a blacksmith like our norman king, and send it with our blessings back to rome, glowing on the anvil
tempered by the flames
Withered in the shadow of the ruthless victor horde, england s being hammered into line
Sorrow for the conquered, england s being hammered, england s on the anvil heavy are the blows
England s on the anvil hear the hammers ring, england s on the anvil hear the hammers ring
Glowing on the anvil, cold heart and bloody hand
wretched is their doom
cast into a spiral of decline
Never was a blacksmith like our norman king, cold heart and bloody hand
england s on the anvil heavy are the blows
Faithful sons awake, clanging from the severn to the tyne
Banish this usurper from the throne, toiling in the silent throes of war, tempered by the flames